Pretty broken things
by planet p
Summary: In a way, they were all just searching. Miss Parker/Angelo.


**Pretty broken things** by planet p

**-oo-ooo-oo-**

**Disclaimer** I don't own 'the Pretender' or any of its characters.

**--------------------------**

**2003**

Parker stood with the back of her head leant against the wall; face tipped to the grey grey ceiling, blue overflowing from her eyes and rolling lazily down her cheeks. Sniffing loudly, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, smudging her porcelain skin dark with mascara like ink. She needed to pull herself together. Tears were not the done thing for a Parker. And in her father's opinion, grief was not an option. Whether he had said the actual words or not, was simply an extenuating complication, because she knew enough to know that he would have been most displeased if ever he stumbled across his angel crying. The angel song was broken now, finally broken, little pieces falling away like rain on a lazy Saturday afternoon, tears in her eyes.

She laughed as fizzy tears ran thick against her pretty powdered cheeks. The day had started like so many others, nothing special there, but then she had hit ten-o-seven and the world just seemed to fall away, sucked into that great gaping void on the dark side of the moon, or whatever. Ten-o-seven became ten-o-eight and still the tears hadn't dried. She supposed daddy would say something was wrong with her. Blue skies turned to grey making her sad. She didn't know, if anything _was_ wrong. Perhaps this was just the way it was going to be from now on. Daddy would give her pills, no doubt. What else could he do? He might have offered a few words, but then would come the point when he realised that he didn't know this woman standing before him, and likely she didn't know herself either. So he would just shrug and turn away, shooting her a vaguely pleasant smile with a pang of disappointment and annoyance. Perhaps he would give her the day off. Bed rest.

Closing her eyes softly, she took deep breaths. In her mind, she drifted from the cold grey room, stood on the ledge as harsh wind embraced her, cold tearing through her as a bullet might. Holding her arms wide, she tipped her face to the blanketed sky and let gravity take her, slowly falling forward and finding that their was only air. She smiled faintly at the memory of her mother, up there in Heaven, waiting for her. "Race you."

A sudden touch made her eyes fly open, her thoughts snatched from the ever-nearing pavement. Her eyes darted to the point of contact and she looked down at her hands. She had no need for questions and neither did he ask any of her. She was half glad, half glad he wasn't Sydney working so hard to figure out what exactly was wrong when what was wrong wasn't the problem, rather what wasn't right, rather that was, because in the end, it didn't matter what it was, it only mattered that it was. Lately she had caught herself hating Sydney, hating the way he looked at her as though she was diseased, the pity. It made her sick and angry. What did it matter to him? Why did it have to matter to him? When she was trying so hard to pretend everything was roses. Damn Green! How could she hold the fought when he was making out like it was the end of the world? She didn't care if he said they could talk, if she wanted. What she wanted was to slap him one; followed in hasty succession by some rather uncivilised language which, summed-up, basically meant piss-off! She didn't want his pity. He could find some other sorry sod to worry over and leave her the Hell alone. She honestly didn't know what _his_ problem was. He was like some sort of magnet for sob stories. Most days she thought it rather pathetic. Some days she thought with a certain savage pleasure that perhaps he did this job day in, day out if only to look down on all those others and shake his head, tissing quietly to himself as if he thought he was oh sooo much better, so much less sorry. But perhaps that was just misery's teeth, always so very sharp. Shaking herself from her dreary thoughts, she closed her eyes again and leant her head on her friend's shoulder, thinking that maybe one day she would teach him some of the atrociously bad golf jokes her daddy had permanently burnt into her psyche via means of painful repetition and numerous brain-numbing corporate functions, the most part of which she recalled being the stupid leery banners that reminded her horribly of a state school she had never attended. Angelo shut his eyes and listened as the little angel all grown up fell into fitful slumber.

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Parker gazed at herself in the mirror, her impossibly blue eyes fixed on her tomato red lips. The colour reminded her too much of her mother. She needed to purge it.

-oo-ooo-oo-

She stared at the smudged lipstick like blood all across her chin and cheeks and suddenly laughed. She imagined she must look a right sight. Laughing hysterically, she thought of the dreaded paper-pushing admin pelting off down the hall as she took chase, screaming and snickering and waving her arms about like a loony. Bumping her forehead against the cold smooth surface of the mirror, she felt fresh tears well in her eyes and fall with a soft plop into the basin. She missed her momma.

-oo-ooo-oo-

Parker lifted her head from her knees at the swishing sound that announced the door had been pushed open, ready to scuttle into one of the cubicles. The nurses would probably snicker behind their hands and call her Little Miss Mope. The admins, not quite as daring, would whisper their nasty rumours to one another like the plague they seemed to strive to perpetuate. Despite all else, she had her family name to protect, regardless of whether it was, in reality, her name at all.

Having picked herself up from the floor, she waited, poised for flight. Seeing that it was only Angelo, she relaxed. Suddenly frowning, she started forward. "Shall I just assume you illiterate?" she admonished, crossing her arms – quite unbeknownst to her – in a most Sydney-like manner. Angelo simply shot her an unassuming look, causing her to mock-growl. Intentional or not, someone was looking for a telling off. Taking his arm, she made to escort him from the room, before catching sight of herself in the mirror and stopping dead. Seeing Angelo watching her, she sniffed. "Don't you dare!" she warned. "And if I hear one word about Strawberry the Clown there will be pain, believe you me!" Angelo shrugged in a non-committal way. It was a few seconds before Parker turned back from the mirror and blinked. "Oi, you, buster! Check that attitude!" Narrowing her eyes, she turned back to her task, shaking her head in wonderment. She really didn't know where he got the audacity.

"Bloody lipstick! The way I'm going, I'm gonna need a scrubbing brush!" Hastily spinning around, she made to grab some more paper towel and nearly smacked right into Angelo who had gotten her some fresh paper towel. Parker put on a fake scowl. "You some kind of a mind-reader or something?" With the same blank expression, he reached out a hand for her face and ran a finger along her bottom lip, his expression changing to a thoughtful one. Blinking slowly, he let his hand drop away. Parker seemingly awoke from her trance. "You tryna say something here, pal?" Angelo lifted his chin up from the tiled floor and smiled, tilting his head onto his shoulder in a manner which recalled a shy little child. Parker's eyes widened impossibly and she spun hurriedly to the basin. "Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgh! Grrrrr! You!" Amid her demented fever, she twisted the tap on and cupped her hands beneath the gushing water. A manic glint about her toothy grin, she screamed and chucked water all over her friend who had started to retreat, taking a few steps back a little too late. Cackling, she jumped up and down, waving her arms about. Angelo, noting the general direction of her footsteps, made a sudden dash for the door, Parker hot on his heels. A loud smack and Parker had him backed up against the wall, her chest heaving. "You bloody shit!" Smirking suddenly at his wide eyes, she scruffed up his hair and yanked him back from the wall, pushing him toward the door. She snickered and shook her head, smiling to herself. "Go on, you – piss off!"

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Parker tossed in bed, dreaming of golden fields and blue skies, dreaming of an angel with matte red lips like tomato and eyes blue as the sky, her momma. Catherine laughed and hitched up the hem of her skirt, running away across that field of gold. The little girl giggled and took chase. Catherine looked back and beamed, paying little attention to where she was headed. Glancing up to the sky, the little girl blinked and wondered if her momma was an angel fallen from Heaven. She was so pretty. She hoped one day she would be that pretty. Her face dropped from the sky and she brushed the dark hair from her eyes. She would ask her momma. Her momma would know. Happy blue eyes fell upon the older woman lying amongst the gold, angel eyes all gone out now, and a slow procession of blood coming from her mouth and running down her cheek like ants on the march. Her horrified scream shattered the early morning calm like the gunshot that had taken her momma from her. She turned and ran and knew she could never stop. The angel had been shot down like a bird. The little one's wings were clipped and she could not fly away where happy little blue birds go. Blue skies turned to grey about her and the sky cried.

-oo-ooo-oo-

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh-h, oh-hh!" She was sure quite how it happened, but it was enough that it did. She remembered a bottle of scotch, remembered that she had had a fair bit of scotch before he found her. She remembered the hugging and the jokes that weren't a bit funny, remembered that he smiled no matter because that's what friends did.

Parker laughed and shoved Angelo in the shoulder, shaking her head. It wasn't even that funny of a joke. In fact, she wagered, had she not been so tipsy, she might have had enough sense to refrain from torturing another human soul with her father's abhorrent taste in jokes. Tossing her chin, she fixed Angelo with an unwavering stare. "Kiss me."

And he had. And she laughed and couldn't stop.

In the end, they were all just pretty broken things, searching for that one spare part that may mend them in some small way, just enough so that they may go on searching for another, just enough to go on existing in the hopes of some day living again.

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Parker screamed and fixed the doctor with a lethal glower. "You think I'm going to listen to you, telling me what to do like you think you're some kind of human being who speaks the lingo? Oh that's amusing, that is! Human-bloody-being, I think not! Cut this little chit chat or I'll see to it that you get what's coming to you when this is done, Doctor Moroe!"

Raines ignored the running commentary and turned away from the nurse he was instructing. "You've got to breathe, Parker. Just keep breathing and it'll all be okay in a little while. You'll see. For the time being, you've got to breathe. Deep breaths. Breathe for me, now."

Parker growled and made to sit, intent upon choking the life out of him, before the pain took her again and she screamed. If she'd known having babies would hurt this much, she'd have burnt all of her dollies and asked for cars instead.

-oo-ooo-oo-

"My baby," Parker croaked, teary eyes fixed upon her little bundle of joy, her voice grating from screaming. "I want my baby." The nurse looked across at Raines for confirmation of action. "Give me my baby!" There wasn't a hint of whining now, just a cold determination. The doctor sighed, offering a small nod as he turned away. The nurse looked back to the glaring woman and moved around the bed to hand her the child.

With a delicately clumsiness that betrayed her weariness, Parker took the newborn in her arms and sniffed, her attention fixed wholly upon this new life. Pretty smile fixed firmly in place, recalling a kid in a candy store, she chanced a glance upward, gazing across the room to where Raines stood by the door, once again conversing with one of the nurses. Looking past the nurse, he simply watched her for a moment before she looked away, not willing to let him put her out of her happy mood. "Welcome to the world, my baby." A small tear rolled down her cheek and she bowed her face. And what a world it was.

-oo-ooo-oo-

Parker awoke from her restless slumber late in the afternoon, still somewhat out of things, lying on a hospital bed in a pair of dreadfully itchy aqua scrubs that she resolved never to willingly wear again. She blinked slowly and smiled at the infant lying asleep in the plastic crib beside her. Sighing quietly, she turned to the window and noted Angelo sitting by the end of the bed, watching her. Hastily placing a finger across her lips, she smiled and shot him a mischievous smile, knowing that conversation was not his strong point. "Shhh. Don't make a peep. Cabbage patch is dreaming." Angelo matched her smile and stood, moving around to lie next to her. Parker's smile widened and she shook her head. "Cheeky little shit, aren't you? What are you up to?" Angelo blinked slowly and reached out a hand for her cheek, tracing his fingers down her skin to her lips. Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. Parker smiled and closed her eyes, finally falling asleep in his arms.

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**2006**

Parker stood with her head leant against the doorframe, watching as Angelo sat with Nara at the piano, frowning slightly. Nara smiled and looked around at her mummy standing in the door. Parker bit her lip and beamed, remembering the authoritive voice in which the little girl had told her of her intentions to teach Angelo to play _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ just that morning. The older woman chuckled silently and closed her eyes, softly humming the notes to herself.

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Parker bounded around the corner dramatically. Nara slowly turned, standing still in the middle of the hall. Parker laughed. "Peek-a-boo! I found you!" Nara simply stared. A flicker of movement caught her eye and Parker looked past the little girl, noting the men all dressed in black advancing up the hall, and they had guns. "Oh my God! Baby! Momma's gonna get you!" She rushed forward and fell down on her knees to snatch up the small child. "Momma's here now, baby." She spoke softly to the three-year-old and hugged her to her chest. She hardly seemed to note the men. They might have been speaking. She didn't hear. They might have been yelling. All she heard was whispers. Jarod's retribution, it seemed, had finally come.

A half-coughing, half-choking sound broke her from her thoughts. The men were closer now. They were still shouting, but she was past caring. She hugged Nara tighter to her and dropped her eyes from the men. Her eyes widened in something like shock. Angelo smiled and coughed again, blood spilling down his cheek to gather in a little pool upon the shiny white marble. Parker blinked and was convinced that she was dreaming and would awake any moment and it would all be better. Angelo coughed again and Nara hugged her momma tight, frightened. Parker shook her head in disbelief. Her mother's voice sounded sad, not how Parker remembered it. _I'm so sorry, my baby!_ "Shit! Angie, no!" Angelo frowned at the panic in her voice and reached out a hand in some small measure of comfort. Parker scrambled forward on her knees and snatched up his hand, but he wasn't seeing her anymore. The men pulled her back and she screamed, lashing out, before she finally lost consciousness. Nara followed the men without any words.

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The room was too bright. The light stung her eyes and hurt her head, causing her to awake. She was in a hospital of some sort, she didn't know which. Her heart pounded in her chest, beating an erratic drum roll. She pushed herself up, shoving the blankets from her irritably. "Little one okay. No hurt."

Parker started at the sound and stared at the hand on her arm, glancing up in disbelief and gladness. "My Nara – our Nara – is okay? No one's hurt her?" she blurted.

Angelo nodded calmly, smiling. "No hurt."

Parker nodded. "And you?"

He looked away from her for a moment as though in contemplation. "Angelo better now."

Parker sniffed, smiling, and pulled him into a hug. "I hate you for making me worry like that, buster!" Angelo laughed quietly and Parker smacked him across the back of the head. "It's the truth!"

-oo-ooo-oo-

The nurse frowned, coming up upon the door to the ward. "She's awake."

The social worker sighed, briefly glancing across at the agent by the door. "Very well, let's go in."

-oo-ooo-oo-

The door was pushed open and Parker looked up from her friend's shoulder. The young woman looked as though she was a nurse. The older woman who appeared to be trying to imitate a rake Parker couldn't place. She scowled, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the FBI agent. The three appeared to be deep in conversation.

A doctor came skittling around the door, waving his arms about as a bird might flap its wings. Parker smiled absently at the look of horror upon the nurse's face. "Excuse me," the doctor hollered, "but this patient is not to be disturbed. Visiting hours are not 'til five." Parker frowned suddenly, pulling away from Angelo and shooting him an enquiring smile. Vaguely, Parker heard the doctor continue with his near hysteric rambling, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave now."

Parker blinked, confused. "Angie?"

Angelo dropped his face to the mattress.

Parker shook her head and reached out her arms, snatching at air. "Noooo-w! Noooooooooo-w! Come back! Nooooooooooooooo-w! Please don't leave me! Please! No!"


End file.
